


We Band of Brothers

by nickless



Category: Blindspot (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor, Mild Language, Minor Jane Doe/Kurt Weller, Team, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 09:05:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5491559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nickless/pseuds/nickless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. </p><p>Reade and Weller find themselves in a battle they have no hope of winning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Band of Brothers

It had seemed like _such_ a good idea at the time.

Their first shots had been direct hits. He and Weller had shared smug grins as cries of shock and anger filled the air. They’d been so cocky, too proud of their seemingly instant victory to even consider the consequences. But their adversaries had turned to each other and shared a silent look, coming to some sort of unspoken agreement, and triumph instantly turned to dread. Weller must have felt it, too, because they’d both begun to scramble backwards as quickly as possible.

It wasn’t fast enough.

Now they were pinned down under inadequate cover, taking heavy fire and quickly running out of ammo. It was a battle they had no hope of winning. Reade considered himself to be a relatively even-tempered guy, but really, his ego could only take so much. He was tired, he was sore, he’d been cold before this whole thing had started, and now? Now he was cranky.

“Let’s throw snowballs at the girls, he said. It’ll be _fun_ , he said.” He dodged the deceptively fluffy white missile careening past his right ear, then cursed as the follow-up shot exploded against his left shoulder, showering his face with slush.

“It _was_ fun!” Weller protested.

“For about two seconds!”

“I didn’t think they’d fight back!”

Reade stopped mid-throw (wasting a perfectly formed snowball in the process) and stared at Weller in disbelief. “How did you _not_ think they’d fight back? You know, I’m seriously beginning to doubt your leadership abilities.”

“I didn’t hear you arguing.”

“I was following orders from my team leader!” Weller snorted something that sounded rather disparaging in response. A moment later Reade felt a sadistic twinge of satisfaction as Weller took a snowball directly to the center of his chest. Served him right.

“Dammit Tasha, that _hurt_!” Weller roared. He turned to Reade and kept yelling. “How was I supposed to know her high school softball team won state?”

“Twice!” Tasha shouted gleefully as she stepped out from behind the thick hedge, her arm already windmilling again. Weller swore and ducked behind the scraggly evergreen that served as their only protection.

“I hate you,” Reade grumbled petulantly.

“If we live, I’ll buy your beer next time we go out.”

“And you’re forgiven.” He might be cranky, but he wasn’t irrational.

Weller stepped out to lob some snowballs at their partners-turned-enemies and Reade took his place behind the tree. From the thumps and obscenities that floated back to him, it wasn’t going well.

He knelt down and started packing more snowballs, but almost immediately he took a direct hit to the ass. It was useless – no matter which way he twisted, some part of him was always exposed. Time to re-evaluate their options. He reached up and tugged on Weller’s pant leg until his partner dropped down beside him. “What? I was getting in some good shots!”

Based on the amount of fresh snow clinging to Weller’s face and hair, Reade rather doubted it. “They have a thick hedge for cover and an unlimited supply of ammo. We have a tree that would embarrass Charlie Brown. We can’t win this.”

“You _think_?”

“We’re at a tactical disadvantage,” he explained, ignoring Weller’s impatient glare. “But we have that.” He pointed to the wind-blown bank of soft snow just beyond the hedge. It was an endless supply of snow for Jane and Zapata, and the soft pile reached well past their waists.

As foolish as the man’s earlier decision had been, Weller wasn’t an idiot. He nodded, understanding exactly what Reade was proposing. “I’ll draw their fire. Run them out of ammo. While they’re restocking…”

“Charge of the Light Brigade.”

Weller nodded. “We few, we happy few.” He held out his fist.

“Dude, that’s not even the same cent—you know what, never mind. We band of brothers.” Reade dropped the half-formed snowball he’d still been holding and bumped Weller’s fist.

“All right. When we get there, I’ll tackle Jane. You take Zapata.”

That wasn’t how it had played out in his head. “Zapata’s their main weapon. She’ll be focused on you already. Why can’t I tackle Jane?” Weller raised an eyebrow. “Right. Stupid question.” Reade sighed. It was a suicide mission anyway. And at least with Zapata, his Death by Snowball would come quickly. “It was good serving with you.”

Weller grunted a reply, already stepping out from behind the tree. He immediately took two snowballs to the chest, then two more. Reade held his breath as a nasty shot to the knee made him stumble, but Weller recovered quickly and pressed on. Three more shots to his chest and torso, and then – it stopped.

With a battle cry, both men rushed the hedge. Stunned, in the middle of reloading, Jane and Zapata were caught by surprise. They tried to bolt but it was too late. He heard Weller’s triumphant yell as with a flying leap, Reade crashed through the end of the hedge and tackled Tasha into the drift behind her.

As soon as they landed he rolled to the side, sinking into the soft snow. It felt like he was disappearing into a pile of white. The only thing that remained from the world outside was the sound of Tasha laughing next to him.

“Truce?” he called. He wiggled his arm until he could see the Tasha-shaped lump buried in the snow beside him.

She snorted. “We accept your surrender.”

“Oh thank God,” Reade breathed, and she laughed harder.

He took a moment to catch his breath before he started to sit up. Tasha’s arm shot out to stop him. “You’re gonna want to give it a minute,” she warned. She reached up and tapped her ear. “We had Patterson on the secondary channel relaying us info. Jane obviously still has her line open.” She looked pointedly past Reade.

Two sets of FBI boots stuck out of the drift, entangled together in a way that indicated Weller had gone absolutely nowhere after tackling Jane. Well, really, who was surprised.... “Okay, then,” he mumbled, flopping back into the snow. His brow furrowed as he processed everything Tasha had just told him. “Wait, you used Patterson? Why, you cheating bunch of cheaters.”

Tasha was unimpressed by his feigned outrage. “We would’ve kicked your asses anyway.”

“Yeah, you would’ve,” he admitted. “So… State champs, huh? Twice?”

“First team all-state my senior year,” she told him proudly. He groaned, and when Jane and Weller finally came to help them out of the snow, they were still laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy First Day of Winter!


End file.
